


Three Weeks

by symphonyofmars



Category: Henry Cavill - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Coronavirus, F/M, I am but a flesh and blood being subject to its incorporeal whims, Quarantine, and it's going to be WHETHER I LIKE IT OR NOT, guess what we all knew it was going to happen, i do not apologize, like a ship being tossed about in a storm, like it? cool. don't like it? too bad we're here anyway, this is what happens when my overworked brain needs to be creative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphonyofmars/pseuds/symphonyofmars
Summary: The Reader is a script writer on The Witcher 2 and begins a budding romance with the lead actor, Henry Cavill. However, coronavirus is going around and no one is prepared.Love in the Time of Corona?
Relationships: Henry Cavill & You, Henry Cavill/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

"Oh… wow. Yeah. Okay." Henry hung up the phone and looked at you.

Things had been so normal when the two of you woke up a few hours ago in your shared flat in the Isle of Skye, Scotland. Kal was back at Henry’s house in London, being taken care of by a brother for the two weeks you were supposed to be gone. The two of you were there with an entire crew and part of the cast to film some scenes of the second season of The Witcher. 

Henry filmed; you were there for script consulting.

You were hoping the call wasn't what you thought it was as you sat at the counter in pjs, watching his face. His expression, the measured nature of the way he put his phone down on the counter and composed himself before he turned to you, you knew what he was going to say.

"Kristofer tested positive for corona."

"Shit," you whispered as you looked away.

"Yeah…" he trailed off as he thought.

A few moments went by as you both stood in silence. Finally, you spoke. 

"And you guys filmed that scene together a few days ago."

"Yeah."

"We probably both already have it."

"Yeah."

"You should probably call your assistant and ask them to find us a doctor."

He was quiet.

You turned to him. "Henry."

He shook his head. "Yeah-- sorry, yeah."

"You okay?"

He looked at you for a few minutes. "Yes? No? I'm not sure."

You frowned. "What are you thinking?"

He sighed. "We both probably have it."

"Yeah."

He sighed again, stress deflating into you didn't know what. "I-- I'm so sorry."

You furrowed your brows. "Hen--"

"I shouldn't have argued so hard for the writers to be on set like I did, I only put you in danger."

"Henry--"

"I'm so stupid, I put you in danger just because I wanted to see you more."

* * *

The two of you had met my sheer accident during pre-production.

You stood by yourself in the empty conference room, none of the actors or other writers to be found, when Henry walked in. You had seen him before, obviously you had seen him; you were living your dream as a writer for a major Netflix series and he was the lead. A fan of the book, you had binged the entire show in a day, gobbling it up like too much ice cream. Which, coincidentally, was what you were eating as you were watching it: a pint of Phish Food and a pint of Americone Dream.

You were up _set_ that you - in love with the books as you were and already a Netflix-contracted writer - somehow were unable to work on the first season. You knew the book and the game inside and out and _needed_ to work on it, yet somehow, you didn’t. After you finished watching the show, after you waited until the next day so people would be awake, you called a friend who was also a writer at Netflix. One who was higher up than you.

You reminded him of the favor you did for him re: the five scripts you doctored for him a few months before. They were shit when you were given to them, but you called on all the power of Carrie Fisher and managed to make them Much Less Shit. Your argument was valid, and he let you move off of your current project and onto the show. You still couldn’t believe it sometimes; you loved the books and now you got to write the show.

Co-write.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. You were excited to write for one of your favorite series and help bring it to the screen. It didn’t hurt that the lead was so handsome, and basically embodied the character. A writer couldn’t dream a more perfect fit.

Both of you had to be present for table reads. Him, because he was the lead actor, and you, because you were writing. And, for the last few weeks the two of you had been stealing glances at each other across the room.

At least, you were stealing glances at him, making them look as natural as possible of course, but you weren't sure if he was 'stealing glances' or just 'looking.'

And now he stood before you, looking as confused as you felt.

"Where is everyone?"

"No idea. I got here five minutes ago and you're the only person who's shown up so far."

He nodded and looked at his watch.

"It's the correct time all right."

He looked at you.

"That was the first thing I did too. I thought maybe I had screwed up when daylight savings was, on account of being an American and not remembering when your daylight savings time is, but no, my phone has the right time." You lit up the lock screen and showed him.

"Ah." He looked at it again as you pulled it away. "What's the background?"

"Oh, uh…" your obsessive nature always got the best of you. It was digital art, a man rendered all in blue and a woman in pink posing romantically and dramatically. Her head lolled back as he held her. "It's Hades and Persephone from the webcomic Lore Olympus. It's one of my favorite comics."

"Oh? Do they have a website?"

"It's on a site called Webtoons."

He nodded. "I'll have to check it out."

You nodded awkwardly. "It's very mushy and romantic and dramatic, just so you know."

He smiled. "I'm fine with that."

You nodded again.

"So… American, huh?"

"Unfortunately," you laughed.

He laughed. "Where from?"

"New York."

"City?"

"Yeah."

"New Yawk?" He imitated the accent with a smile.

"Do I sound like that to you?"

"No, sorry."

You turned away. This was going _swell_. And where the hell was everybody?

"Sorry about that. I always thought it was a fun accent."

"Not when people ask if you're in the mob because of it."

He nodded. "Yeah… sorry."

You looked at him out the corner of your eye as he turned away, he seemed… almost worried.

"At least I don't feel so stupid with you here."

He turned to you.

"If I'm a dumbass who showed up at the wrong time, at least the lead of the show is a dumbass with me."

He smiled. "I don't think we're dumbasses. And we're clearly on time."

"Yeah, but no one's here. So, someone has to be a dumbass in this equation. It's either us, or them."

He laughed.

The two of you were quiet again so you began to rock your hips back and forth. It was a habit whenever you were bored, you leaned into one leg, then the other, then the first one, back and forth and back and forth; much the same way someone holding a baby on their hip does to sooth them. Call it 'too much energy' or whatever it might be, but it's something to do when nothing is happening. Bank line? Back and forth. Waiting to go through security at the airport? Back and forth. Unoccupied for two and a half seconds? Back and forth.

"Are you dancing?"

"Huh?"

"That thing you're doing, are you playing a tune in your head?" He smiled.

"No, I was just chillin.'"

"Chillin?'"

You shrugged. "What else am I supposed to do? No one's here and we don't know why."

He nodded. "I thought maybe you were doing the floss or something."

"Okay, first of all, I have never played Fortnite in my life. I am against games that trick you into paying for microtransactions by structuring it in such a way that you _have_ to pay. That's the fastest way to get me to hate a game."

He was looking at you with an emotion you couldn't identify.

"Second, I could never figure the floss out. The rhythm is weird,” you shrugged, “it makes no sense to me."

He looked at you for a couple seconds before the corner of his mouth pulled up. "Uh, I can show you. I never played Fortnite for the same reasons, but my nephews do, and they showed me."

"Oh, yeah, you have a lot of brothers or whatever, right?'

"Four brothers. And lots of nieces and nephews."

You nodded.

"Want me to show you?"

"Sure. It's not like we're in a table read or anything," you laughed and put your stuff on the floor. "Okay."

A few - silly - minutes of explaining and misfired attempts, you had gotten the hang of it. As you swung your hips and hands in time, you realized:

"The beat is a waltz."

"Huh?" Henry said, mid-floss.

"If I had known the beat was a waltz it would have made so much more sense!" You said loudly before laughing.

Henry laughed with you.

You said the beat out loud, ‘dun dun _dun_ , dun dun _dun_ ,’ as you kept going.

Henry kept laughing.

Someone peeked their head into the room. "Hello?"

You both stopped.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Hi," Henry said as he strode over, hand out to shake the woman's hand. "Henry Cavill. We're here for a table read and no one's shown up yet. I was just about to call the front desk."

"Uh huh," she said as she raised an eyebrow. "The room isn't booked until tomorrow."

You looked at your phone and looked at your calendar, it said today the notification went off and everything. You opened your email and looked for the one about the table read.

"Ohhhhhhh," you said. "We are dumbasses."

"Why?' Henry asked.

"The email says it's tomorrow. I put it in my phone as today."

Henry laughed and nodded. He turned to the secretary, "I'm sorry, we'll both leave."

She nodded, "Close the door behind you," and left.

"See?" You asked as he walked back over. "Someone was the dumbass and it was us. We were Dumb of Ass. I believe that’s a title Sapowski put in one of the books."

He laughed. "Want to get something to drink? We might as well do something since we both came all the way here. I saw a café on the way over."

You picked up your stuff. You should probably go over your notes for the read tomorrow, considering you hadn't gone over them for today, but…

"We can he dumbasses together," he smiled.

* * *

"You're not stupid, bubba."

He looked over at you.

"I like being on set. It's good practice for when I can finally be head writer on my own show," you smiled. 

He smiled back. "You deserve your own show."

"I know I do."

"You don't deserve me getting you sick."

"You didn't get me sick, bubs. Everyone is getting it, it's unavoidable."

He leaned against the counter and took your hand. "How are you so calm?'

You shrugged. "I don't know. I freak out at little things and I'm calm during a crisis. It makes no sense."

He smiled weakly.

"Hey, if we have it and we're quarantined, we get to be quarantined together."

He kissed your hand. "That's the only good thing about this whole thing. We can be dumbasses together."

You smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

Fortunately, because Henry had fallen for you, the two of you had access to a real kitchen, washer, dryer, all those things people’s flats and houses normally have for living. Some of the set staff were tested and went home if they didn’t have it, as they had varying accommodations for the two weeks filming was supposed to go on for.

Henry made a few calls. One was to his assistant to find him a doctor in the area who could come to the two of you and give you the test, that was easy enough. The other was to two assistants his assistant had found in London: one to go to his house to get some extra clothes, and one to go to your flat to get some extra clothes. The two of you stood in different rooms as you coached them around your respective abodes, telling them what to pick up. You had to call your doorman to the assistant assigned to you into your flat. Henry's main assistant would then drive towards London, meet the other two on the road, pick up your things, and drive them back to Skye.

It struck you as very 007 for some reason.

The doctor was located and arrived an hour later and the two of you were tested.

You both had it.

"The wild thing is," you said as the doctor put his supplies away, "if it weren't for the test, we would have no idea we even have it."

The doctor nodded. "The data out of Korea shows that most young people are likely to be asymptomatic."

You shook your head. "That's so scary. We're all just a bunch of Typhoid Marys running around."

"Well, do what she didn't: wash your hands, and don't become food workers anytime soon."

You laughed.

"Please quarantine yourselves and don't go near the elderly."

"Yes, doctor," Henry answered.

The two of your hung around for a while waiting for your things, and the next morning, Henry’s assistant knocked on the door. He was carrying all your stuff and wearing a mask and gloves.

“That’s fair,” you commented as the door opened.

“You drove through the night?” Henry asked him.

He nodded, clearly tired. “Here,” he said and pointed at your things. “I don’t want to hand then to you.”

“No problem,” you said as you dragged Henry’s bag into the flat and then your two bags.

“Thank you,” Henry said.

“Let me know if you guys start feeling worse, I’ll have the doctor come ‘round.”

Henry nodded. “See you around.”

He left and Henry closed the door. “Two bags?”

“Yeah,” you smiled and opened the one that had geometric corners that stuck out all over the place. “I brought games.”

* * *

“Did you play the game first or read the books first?” Henry asked as the waiter sat your drinks down in front of you, him a coffee, you a matcha latte.

“I read the books first.”

“Do you like fantasy books?”

“Yeah, I mean, I devoured things like… Journey to the Center of the Earth, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, The Wizard of Oz, things like that in elementary school. Then I read The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion in junior high. Nothing in high school, really, I couldn’t find anything good at the time and I was kind of getting more into music and moves than books, but after high school when the Witcher series started coming out one by one, I was there.” You smiled with a laugh.

“That’s a healthy diet of books.”

You nodded.

“You read Journey to the Center of the Earth in elementary school?”

“Yeah. Every time I went grocery shopping with my mom I’d pick up another book from the book section. I went through fifty or so in the fourth grade alone.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah… I guess that’s why I wanted to write. I read so much I was just kind of like, ‘I can do this.’”

He smiled. “So you’ve come on to adapt this season?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you been enjoying it so far?”

“Of course. I mean, it’s no writing my own stuff, but I enjoy taking preexisting work and figuring out how to best display what’s described on paper on the screen.”

He nodded.

“There’s just so much you can put into a book that would never end up in an adaptation if you just have the dialogue and the actions, you’d lose all the flavor. Adapting things is fun.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I’ve seen you at the table reads and didn’t recognize you from last season.”

“Yeah, I didn’t recognize you either,” you smiled.

He smiled back.

The both of you sipped your drinks.

“Is that why you kept looking at me?" He asked.

You put your mug back down, trying to control the shocked emotion that flashed across your face. "Uh…"

His eyebrow ticked up as he looked at you.

"Yeah, I was like… 'Who is that guy? He looks familiar but I don't recognize him.'" You looked at him.

His eyebrow still raised, he looked like he didn't believe you. 

You sipped your drink again, hoping anything else would happen. The two of you were quiet for a few moments as you willed yourself to disappear.

It didn't work.

He smiled. "Listen. I just went through this thing where a woman wanted to date me because I'm famous, so if that's why you kept looking at me--"

"Woah, okay, points for being blunt, first of all. Second, who the hell said I wanted to date you? And only date you because you're famous?"

"Then why did you keep looking at me and then looking away when I looked at you during the table reads?"

Your mouth lolled open for a second, you supposed you weren't as discreet as you thought you were. "Okay, fine, yeah, I was looking at you. But I wasn't looking at you because you're famous and I," you made air quotes with your fingers, "'want to date a famous person'. I was looking at you because you're cute."

He smiled.

"And you're always nice to everyone when you come in, and you really care about the character. So, like… yeah."

"Nothing to do with wanting to date me?"

"Do you want me to want to date you?"

He laughed awkwardly.

You smiled incredulously. "Oh, did you want to ask me out?" 

He laughed again.

"Is that why I'm getting the Spanish Inquisition over here? You want me to confess so you don't have to?"

"Alright, maybe I was looking at you because I thought you were pretty, and you were interested in the characters and seemed like a person I could maybe get along with and date."

"Then why didn't you say something?"

"Well, I didn't know if you were single or not."

You nodded.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Same thing, I guess. Also… I don't think the show runner would have taken kindly to one of the lower-level writers hitting on their star."

He chuckled. 

"Let's be realistic."

"I suppose you're right. They can't say anything if I ask you out, though."

You nodded. "No, they can't."

He smiled.

"So, are you going to do that or are you just pointing that out?'

He laughed. "Sorry. Would you like to go out sometime? On a proper date?"

"So… this isn't a date?"

"More like, 'two people out for coffee.'"

You nodded. "Just being clear. Yeah, I'd love to go on a date with you. When are you free?"

"Um… later today, and tomorrow night, and the night after," he chuckled.

"So many options," you laughed.

"I-- sorry. I'm not the smoothest guy in the world."

"You seem pretty smooth so far."

"Well, when I like a girl, I never really know what to say."

"Oh, so regular conversations about work and that are okay, but when the conversation goes all… 'You wanna get together babeyy?'" You made kissy noises and did your best impression of a sleazy guy trying to pick up girls in a club.

Henry laughed. "I can practically see your hairy man chest and gold medallions."

You laughed. "I'm so glad you got that. I was taking a risk."

He smiled. "But-- yeah. Pick whichever one."

"Which one do you want to go on a date on?"

"I'm happy with whatever you pick."

"So much pressure," you laughed again.

"Well… if you pick tonight or tomorrow, we can always go out the night after as well. Providing we don't hate each other."

"True… and if it turns out we hate each other we can just schedule a fight to the death in the middle of the road in place of a date."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"I've never played Battleship before… I don't know what I'm doing."

"Just call out a space, dude."

"E...seven?" He craned his head over the top.

You pulled the top of your board down. "You can't look!"

"Yes, right! Sorry." 

"And you didn't hit anything." You laughed as you replaced the pegs you had knocked out.

You did a bastard thing and grouped all your ships together in one spot. It was a high risk, high reward move. And you were hoping it'd fuck him up. 

Ten minutes in and Henry was peering at his board like the two of you were playing three-dimensional chess, trying to figure out where you were.

"B… nine?"

You looked up from your phone. "Nope."

He sighed and put a white peg in the board. "The least you could do is pay attention while I suffer."

"Are you hoping I'll enjoy it?"

He narrowed his eyes at you.

You laughed. "Sorry, I was scrolling through twitter. There's a lot of men making jokes about how much they hate their families and I just… why did you get married and have kids?"

He shrugged. "I can't imagine going through all the trouble of dating, planning a wedding, getting married, planning finances in order to have kids, having kids and then looking at it all and hating it."

"Yeah. You want a big family or something, right?"

"So you've seen some of my interviews?"

You looked at the array of pegs on your board. You had gotten more red ones than he did. "Maybe. It's not as if I didn't know who you were beforehand. Call it recon."

"Recon?"

"Yeah. It's rare that you have a walkthrough for dealing with other people. Definitely makes it easier on one’s anxiety. G-eight."

He looked down. "Fuck's sake." 

"What'd I get?" You smiled.

"My aircraft carrier. Why are you so good at this?"

"Because I've played it before."

He sighed.

"Failure helps us learn. Don't be so sad."

He raised his brow. "You're only saying that because you're winning."

"Probably." You chuckled.

He smiled. “About that recon?”

“What? Yeah, like… I mean, you're famous so I was able to know stuff about you before we met.”

He nodded as he looked at his board.

“Does that bother you?”

“I don’t know… it would be my own fault, I suppose, since I’m the one who keeps doing interviews.”

“I suppose it would be.”

He looked up at you and smiled. “What else do you know about me?”

You smiled back. “Make your move, bud.”

“I’m trying,” he chuckled. “B-four?”

You laughed. “Open water.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“How about we just say that anything you said in any interview is fair game, and that I’m not going to tell you which ones I have and haven’t seen.”

He frowned at you.

“I-eight.”

He looked down and sighed heavily.

You smiled expectantly. He only had one ship left. 

“You win.”

“No, you have to say it.” You clapped your hands together.

He sighed again and said the words like a child who was being told to apologize. “You sunk my Battleship.”

You laughed raucously.

He smiled at you and shook his head.


	3. Chapter 3

“We’ve all had to get used to ignoring our instincts, I suppose. Aim for the head, not the body, abandon the people you love, kill your patients… I just keep telling myself that if this works, maybe all this will be over. “

The words hung in the air for a few moments.

“You see the building? Head straight for it. If the door’s not open, I’ve given you the code, which I should never have known. Paula always said breaching security protocol like this would get her fired in the end. But because I knew the code, I could sometimes sneak in when she was working late, and…” You laughed, breathless, along with the audio. “She liked that.”

Henry laughed at you as he ran next to you. This had been your morning routine since the first day the two of you woke up in the flat a week or so ago. You’d both wake up and do fasted morning cardio. Obviously, it was Henry that started it, he was the one who did it every morning while he was and wasn’t filming; had to stay in shape for the cameras.

For you, you had only recently gotten into exercising again, you figured you had to, since writing involved so much sitting down.

“Runner five,” the actress said as you mouthed her words and mimed distress, “run!”

Both of you lowered the resistances of your machines and ran faster, fast metal music blaring out of your phone and taking over from the actress’ monologue. You ran as hard as you could, away from an imaginary hoard of zombies.

* * *

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

“Umm, I took horseback riding lessons for a year.”

He chuckled. “How old were you?”

“Uhh… thirteen maybe? I blame Lord of the Rings, honestly.”

He laughed.

You smiled.

“Do you remember anything?”

“Umm…” you searched your mind as the two of you neared the stables. You didn’t have any of the riding gear you remembered needing and so were only wearing jeans, which you normally didn’t wear, and were generally dressed for the weather. “Maybe a little?”

“Do you want to see if we can get you an older horse?”

“A beginner horse?”

“Yes.”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

The stable hands welcomed Henry and were sweet to you as they lent you boots and a helmet and gave you a crash course as they asked you what you remembered. You were surprised to find you remembered more than you thought you would, given you only rode horses for one year and it was so long ago. But they led you around the paddock and let you take the reins – literally – and show them that you remembered a trop and gallop. And also, how to stop.

Henry smiled at you as he leaned against the fence. You walked your horse over.

“Lookin’ good. Ready to ride a trail?”

“I think so.” You looked around for a moment. “I forget how to get off.”

He laughed.

It was a nice day for a riding date. The air was only a little chilly, and the horses were both in good moods; no complaints upon being saddled and brought to the trail head.

Henry helped you get back on your horse before getting on his own and leading the way.

“Have you ever been on a trail before?”

“No. There wasn’t a lot of space for horse riding where I lived so we just rode in the paddock. The trails were kind of far away, you had to cross a busy road to get to them.”

“Why wasn’t the riding school closer to the trail?”

“Well… it _was_ close to the trail, but then Target decided to build a store complex, and then Home Depot built a store, and then Applebee’s built a restaurant, and then a movie theater opened up and a bunch of other stores opened—so it went from being all trees and super quiet except for a garden center and a pile of dirt some company used for fill-in work, to _super_ busy with tons of cars.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” you frowned. “The school ended up closing and it was like…” you sighed, “that moment in a coming-of-age movie where the town totally changes, and the main character knows it’ll never be the same. So their only choices are to assimilate to a life they hate, or leave and find somewhere they enjoy living.”

He nodded. “Are you the main character?”

You shrugged with a sad smile. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He smiled.

“Gotta say, the healthcare is pretty nice.”

“Right, you guys don’t have that as a right.”

“We’re not allowed, apparently.”

“But you have plenty of guns,” he added.

“I don’t know about you, but I like to _shoot_ the cancer right out of someone’s body. Works every time.”

He laughed.

“Of course, I also shoot the patient’s organs right out of their body as well—”

He kept laughing.

“—and I have to say, my ratio of living to dead patients looks more like someone’s Call of Duty score.”

He stopped his horse so he could laugh. The horse huffed at him.

You stopped yours, smiling.

“Imagine it got that crazy?” He wheezed.

“I think it might already be: some people set off an explosion during a gender reveal party and a lady died. The place is bananas.”

“Someone really died?” He wiped the tears from his eyes and urged his horse forward.

You did the same and rode next to him. “Yeah. At first people would cook a pink or blue cake, then it was balloon city, now it’s fucking explosions.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

“A lot of time to waste, in my opinion, your kid may not even grow up to agree with the gender your doctor proclaimed them to have a birth.”

He nodded.

“I _have_ heard of trans people having gender reveal parties when they come out as a different gender. That’s cool. But the ones people throw for someone who isn’t even born yet are weird.”

“I agree. That’s a lot of time and money for someone who isn’t even at the party.”

“Right?” You laughed. “You can’t even save them a piece of cake for when they do show up, because it would just go bad after all that time.”

He started laughing again.

* * *

“This is the deal, Runner Five,” the actress said. “It’s not that Paula was moonlighting. Pandora Haze Technologies was working with the government. It was a joint venture! They were looking for… it was an investigation into the possibility of eternal life.” The sound cut for a second and then a robotic voice said, “Mission complete.”

You stopped running and huffed, wiping the sweat from your face as your machine slowed to a stop. Henry did the same, minus the slight breathlessness.

“How do you do cardio every day?” You asked.

He laughed. “Practice I guess.”

You breathed out hard and sucked as much air as you could into your nostrils. “Jeez.”

He smiled as his machine stopped. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It wasn’t. But as a writer I’m used to a lot of sitting, you see.”

“Ahh.”

“Not that this isn’t unwelcome. The irony that I’m in better shape now – when there’s a pandemic – as opposed to normally – when there isn’t – isn’t lost on me.”

He laughed again.

“I need a shower.”

“Go ahead. I’m going to do some bodyweight exercises.”

You nodded tiredly and showered. The shower itself was brief, but the sound of the water shutting off a while ago left the flat in silence.

“Are you okay in there?” Henry called to you as he went into another set of push-ups.

“Uh, there’s no conditioner.”

“You ran out?” He pushed himself up again.

“Uhh…” You opened the door, appearing in all your frizzy glory. “Hey,” you finger gunned at him.

He dropped himself right onto his face.

You rolled your eyes with an awkward laugh.

He pushed himself up and sat back onto his heels. “Wow, that’s uh, quite the mane.”

“Yeah,” you walked over, “I honestly thought I had more conditioner in the bottle, but… my hair needs a lot.”

He nodded.

“It just keeps getting bigger the drier it gets.”

He looked at you almost apologetically. “Would braiding it help?”

You sat with him and crossed your legs. “Yeah. That’s what I’m going to do once it’s dry. But now…” you fluffed it up, “I have sit here looking like I’m ready for a 1970s disco while I wait.”

He laughed as he reached out to touch it, testing how springy the separated curls were. “It’s doesn’t look terrible.”

“Thank you.”

“It looks fun, actually.”

“It’d look more fun if it’d stop getting into my mouth,” you spat out your tongue, trying to get rid of the hairs that had gone into your mouth when you fluffed it.

He smiled.

You stood. “I’m going to put the front up so the back can dry faster,” and went in search of a hair tie.

Henry went back to his pushups, and a few minutes later you appeared in the bedroom doorway with the front of your hair up like 1990s Chris Jericho. You posed and did a peace sign.

“What do you think?”

Henry smiled and sat up. “Very fashionable.”

“I am, thank you,” you said as you strutted into the room.

He laughed.

“How are those push-ups coming?”

“I wish I had something I could use as a weight. They’re too easy.”

“Oh, yeah?” You laughed.

“Don’t laugh, I can bench more than this.” He looked around the room for something to use.

“What if… I sat on your back? Would that help?”

He looked at you. “It might. Come on.” He stretched into a plank position and waited.

“ _Please_ tell me if I’m too heavy,” you said as you walked over.

“If you’re too heavy I won’t be able to lift you,” he laughed.

“I’m serious, I don’t want to severely injure the lead actor just because he didn’t have access to a gym.”

“I’ll let you know if you’re too heavy.”

You sat on his upper back, and let your legs hang off.

“Sit up,” he said, not sounding like it was difficult to support you.

You crossed your legs under you and held onto his shoulders.

“Count for me,” he said before lowering himself for the first pushup.

“One…”


	4. Chapter 4

“Yeah, mum, we’re fine. We haven’t gotten on each other’s nerves yet, so I think that’s a good thing.”

“Are you sure? You two barely know each other and you’ve been cooped up for over a week already.”

“Yeah, we’re doing okay. We had my assistant go and get us more food, so we’ve been cooking, neither of us have had any symptoms at all.”

“That’s good. I want to see you when you get back.”

Henry chuckled. “Hopefully we’re able to travel when our quarantine is done.”

“You’d better. I want to meet her, too.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll--”

A high-pitched yelp echoed from the kitchen.

“I’ll call you back mum, I think she’s making a mess.”

“Talk to you later, honey.”

Henry came around the wall between the living room and kitchen to see you frantically mopping up water you had gotten all over the floor. “What the hell did you do?”

“I saw a salad spinner in the cupboard and wanted to use it because they’re hilarious and I was spinning it and I went to let go and make it do the funny thing when it jitters on the counter and makes a bunch of noise and I let go and the water flew out and went _everywhere_!!”

He looked at you blankly for a moment before picking up a towel and starting at the other end of the puddle, working towards you.

* * *

You sat nervously, looking at him, trying to discern his thoughts through his expressions.

“Staring at me is _really_ not helping,” he laughed without looking up from the paper he was holding.

“Sorry.” You sat up, not knowing what you should do with yourself. He had offered to read the book you were working on – it was a somewhat short first draft that you knew needed work, so you were stopping yourself from getting your hopes up – but you had liked the fantasy world you had built. And, since he was also a fan of fantasy novels, you’d hoped he could give you a solid opinion of what you had so far. You took your phone off the table and began mindlessly scrolling through your Instagram, hoping someone was doing something that could take your mind off what he must be thinking.

A half an hour later, he put the last of the pages back with the others and affixed the alligator clip to the stack.

You looked up, too many emotions happening at once.

He sighed and patted the papers. He looked up at you.

You were silent, unwilling to ask him what he thought.

He looked at you for another moment, expressionless, before a smile broke out across his face. “I really liked it.”

“Really?”

“Yes! It was great!”

“Oh god,” you put your hand over your heart and slid down into your chair. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” You sat back up, “Really?”

“Yeah. The world was interesting, I liked that the gods weren’t actually gods, the characters felt rich and like they were real. I loved that you had so many women characters in main roles and that they were all different from each other—”

“Hey, if Tolkien can write a sausage fest with three ladies, then I can do the opposite, right?”

“You had a pretty even cast, I thought.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I tried to keep it pretty even.”

“I liked that the villain was a spoiled prince; I knew quite a few of those when I went to boarding school.”

You laughed.

“I’m serious. I know I’m a white guy, but white guys who have all the power and privilege and want more are the worst.”

“He’s inspired by a lot of guys I’ve known. So is the king.”

He smiled. “Write what you know, huh?”

You shrugged. “No one told any of them to act like villains, and now, they are villains.”

He laughed. “And the people with different powers were cool. I liked the woman with the mechanical hands, she seemed very cool as a character.”

“She’s one of the first ones I wrote,” you smiled. “So, you really liked it?”

“Yeah, my only complaint is that it’s too short, but you said it wasn’t done yet so that will get fixed.” He handed it back to you.

“Yeah, I’m still not a hundred percent sure what I want to happen in the middle. Like, I know I want a big battle but I’m not sure where everyone should be yet, and I think maybe I need to take a few days and outline it or something to figure it out.”

He nodded.

“I went to an exhibit of Tolkien’s notes and he had one that was a grid that had the time that something was happening and then where each character was and what they were doing, so I think I need to do one of those to figure out who’s where and who’s doing what.”

“I guess that’s a problem with a large cast.”

“Yeah. I like all the characters I made but sometimes I’m like, ‘Why did I make so many of you? You’re all over the place.’”

He laughed.

“I have no one but myself to blame,” you chuckled.

He smiled.

“I’m glad you like it though. It means a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You have good taste, being in The Witcher and all, so it means more than like… if I had someone checking it for grammatical errors and they happened to say that they liked it.”

He smiled again. “I did see a typo somewhere in there.”

You gasped. “No! I thought I got them all! Where is it?” You handed the papers back to him.

“I don’t remember!”

“Find it! Find it!”

Laughing, he took them back and started flipping through them to find it.

* * *

“You are one of the strangest people I know,” Henry said as he, cleaning up the water, got closer to you.

“I’m normally the strangest person someone knows,” you laughed and shrugged. “That’s what happens when you’re a weirdo.”

He smiled. “You’re a fun weirdo though.”

You smiled.

“Except for this mess.”

“Listen—”

He started laughing before you could defend yourself.

“You think you’re _so_ slick.”

He chuckled.

“You’re all ‘I’m Henry! I’m really cute and handsome and charming and everyone likes me!’” You said in a mocking way. “‘I’m in movies and tv shows and dress really well and everyone loves when I’m around!’”

He laughed, but looked at you, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Making fun of you.”

“But… that’s not insulting.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to insult you, I just want to make fun of you. ‘Look at me, I’m Henry, everyone thinks I’m funny and cool and stuff!’”

He laughed.

“‘Everyone wants to be around me because I’m so nice and shit’, oooohhh”

“Should I do it back to you?”

You laughed as you continued cleaning. “Give me the best you got, big guy.”

He sat up and thought a moment. “Ooh, I’m y/n, I’m pretty and sexy and fun and good at stuff. I write cool books my boyfriend loves reading.”

“‘Oh, I’m Henry, I love reading my girlfriend’s drafts and I’m really supportive of her work.’”

“‘I’m y/n, I’m funny and interesting and I like to make fun foods and I’m really cool and I tell my boyfriend he’s sexy all the time and he likes it.’”

“‘I’m Henry, I’m really sexy and I get cute when my girlfriend points that out, but like, everyone already knows it!’”

“‘I’m y/n, and it only matters when I tell Henry he’s sexy, magazines and people online don’t matter.’”

“‘I’m Henry, everyone likes me because I’m an actor and I play Superman and Geralt the Witcher and everyone thinks that’s cool.’”

“‘I’m y/n, I adapt books for TV and write my own stuff and everyone is going to love them when they get published, and they should get optioned into movies.’”

You stopped. “You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?”

“The draft you left me read with the mechanical hand girl? That would be cool as a live action.”

“Nah, that should be a TV show. Or a miniseries.”

“I should like to see it on a larger screen.” He stood and wrung his towel out into the sink. “Maybe a trilogy.”

You stood, the water cleaned up, and wrung your towel out as well. “Ohh, maybe I could write it as a trilogy. Then there’d be more to adapt.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh my god, I know what should happen in the middle,” you kissed him quickly and ran to get your laptop. “Thanks!”

He laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

Morning cardio done and both of you showered, you were curled up on the couch with some tea, both of you looking through your social media.

“You really have a second one?”

“I couldn’t very well post personal things on my main account. I made that mistake too many times.”

“Oh, so the one with your name is more like a business account.”

“Yep.” He nodded.

“Ahh,” you nodded slowly. “I guess I’m glad I’m a writer and not an actor, then. I don’t know if I would be able to deal with having so many fans that I have to hide just to get some peace.”

He shrugged as you leaned against him. “It means I’m famous enough to get high-paying gigs, at least.”

“That’s true. I guess popularity is a measure of those things.”

He put his arm around you and squeezed.

You giggled.

“Oh look, my brother has turned his Instagram into a cooking show,” he said and started the video.

His brother showed how to make a cocktail that you didn’t hear the name of, but which ended up being lavender in color.

“The color change was cool,” Henry commented.

You looked at him out the corner of your eye for a second. “Yeah, dark purple to lighter purple.”

He turned to you. “It was blue.”

You sat up and looked at him harshly.

“Are you calling my brother a liar?”

“Well I ain’t callin’ him a truther.”

He laughed.

“I think maybe the both of ya’ll are a little colorblind. That is a purple gin, my friend.”

“Oh, we’re only friends now?”

“I’m friend zoning you until you understand what purple looks like.”

He laughed again.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you held out your hand to shake his.

“Hand shaking?” He asked incredulously.

“I only shake hands with friends.”

“I don’t want to shake your hand, you have coronavirus.”

“Could be worse, I could have Corona beer.”

“Hey, I’ve drank Corona.”

You looked at him blankly for a moment. “See, this is why we’re just friends.”

He laughed.

* * *

Henry was returning from the walking date he took you and Kal on. He unlocked the door while Kal stood next to him, tail wagging and happy to be home. He was a dog; he was always happy.

“So, bear, did you like her?”

Kal snorted happily.

Henry smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The door open, he let Kal off his leash and the fuzzy monster bounded into the house as if it was the most exciting place to be.

Henry chuckled while he hung up his coat.

Kal came running back with a toy and nudged his hand.

“You were _just_ out. You didn’t get enough exercise?”

Kal snuffled as he tried to lead Henry out the back door.

“Alright, alright. Let’s play fetch.”

Twenty minutes later, Henry stood in the bottom of his garden, still throwing the ball Kal had brought him.

“How are you not tired?” He asked as Kal went running off again.

He had to laugh. He had multiple people tell him, when he first got him, that most dogs mellowed out around three years old. He figured that it was probably a breed-specific anecdote, since Kal was already six and still had the energy he had as a puppy.

As Kal brought the ball back and he threw it away again, over and over, he had time to think.

He had recently met a woman by sheer accident. The two of you would have spoken to each other eventually, but he was happy it happened when it did, it gave you time to go out and suss each other out before filming started and you barely saw each other. But what were the two of you going to do when he went off to film and you stayed behind with the other writers.

He wished he could bring you with him, but you weren’t Kal; a human woman couldn’t just be packed up into a car every morning like a dog, happy to sit under his makeup chair while he got ready and then be left to her own devices while he filmed for eight hours.

He supposed _some_ people were into that, but he wasn’t.

He liked you because you were independent, and had your own things going on. But because of that, he worried that once filming started, the two of you would lose touch and whatever you had going on would fizzle out.

He had been no stranger to relationships that started strong and ended in a whimper. He would have liked if it happened less, though. He wanted a family someday, and relationships that only lasted a few months weren’t going to provide the stability that a family needed.

But if he could figure out a way for the two of you to spend more time together, then you could continue to get to know each other, and then – when the two of you inevitably couldn’t be together because he would eventually have to work on a project that you wouldn’t be working on – maybe you’d be able to do the long-distance thing.

It was just that, in his experience, he had never had a long-distance relationship work out.

He frowned to himself as Kal ran back, slobbery ball in his mouth, still full of energy but huffing from exhaustion.

“Let’s sit, Kal,” he led him over to the steps that led into the garden and sat down.

Kal sat next to him and whined.

“Stop lying to yourself, buddy, you can’t keep going like this,” he laughed as he patted his head.

Kal laid down and sighed deeply; a sound like a mooing cow.

“Okay.”

Henry pet his side and kept thinking. Was _he_ Kal? He couldn’t keep doing the grueling filming schedules for the rest of his life. He was nearing forty, and he wanted a family.

As he ran his fingers through Kal’s dense fur, he realized; if he wanted to include someone new in his life, he was going to have to make space for them. He had done as much for Kal; walks becoming a daily thing, and making sure he could fly with him on a plane instead of in the pet cargo area.

“I guess I have to do the same for a person too.” He said out loud.

Kal sat up and looked at him.

“You liked her, right?”

Kal liked anybody. He really wasn’t picky.

He mushed Kal’s fluffy cheeks for a moment as he thought.

“Let’s call Niki. I’m sure the boys would love to see you.”

He stood and Kal followed him into the house.

* * *

“And here I thought you had class,” you said as you laughed.

Henry put his phone on the coffee table and pushed the table away from the couch.

“What are you doing--?” Was all you got out before he grabbed you and rolled you onto the floor. “Waa!!”

He laughed as he pinned you down. “Who’s wrong about colors now?”

“Still you!” You laughed. “911! Help! I’m being jiu-jitsed.”

“How do you know it was jiu-jitsu?”

“I follow your Instagram,” you tried to wriggle away, “get off me you heathen.”

“Ohh, so you were just keeping that a secret, huh?”

“You were in the first season of the TV adaptation of one of my favorite books, of course I followed you, you big oaf!”

He laughed.

“Now get off me.”

His phone buzzed and he got off you to check it.

You sat up and took your hair out of its braid and rebraided it.

“Hey Niki,” he said to his brother as he held the phone up.

“Hey, mom said you’re quarantined. Why haven’t you called?”

“I meant to; we’ve been keeping busy.”

You quietly moved the table back to where it was supposed to be and sat down on the couch.

“We?” He asked.

You froze.

“Yeah, I’m rooming with someone.”

“Oh?” Niki asked, sounding like he already knew the answer. “Who?”

Henry tilted his head as he looked at his brother. “Did mom tell you—”

“Of course, she told me! Let’s meet the girl!”

You could hear Niki’s wife in the background, yelling at him for having _no_ tact.

You looked up at Henry, only slightly mortified.

He looked back at you, eyebrows raised as if he was asking you if it was okay.

You shrugged and nodded. It had to happen eventually.

“Sure, Nik.”

You laughed awkwardly as Henry sat next to you.

“Hi,” you said with a wave.

“She’s here,” Niki whispered, and his wife appeared in the frame next to him. “Hello! So, you’re y/n.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

He smiled. “A sense of humor. I always told you you should date a funny girl.”

“When did you say that?” Henry and Niki’s wife asked in unison.

You snickered. “I’m sure Barbara Streisand would be proud.”

Henry laughed at you.

“How have you guys enjoyed being cooped up together?”

You shrugged. “Playing a lot of games, hanging out. I’ve been working on a book.”

“You write?”

“She’s one of the writers on the show, Nik. Mom didn’t tell you that?”

“She must have forgot.”

“Are you missing your best friend?” Nikki’s wife asked. She took the phone from her husband and pointed it at a furry face who was standing next to the counter they stood at. “He came running over when he heard your voice.”

Kal looked up and wagged. Enjoying the attention but confused.

“How has he been doing?”

“He’s been having a blast with the boys,” Niki answered. “They run around all morning, nap after lunch, and then wake up and run around all afternoon.”

“That’s a lot of energy for such a big dog,” you laughed.

“I keep becoming afraid they’re going to break something,” Niki’s wife added.

You and Henry laughed.

“At least he’s not bored,” you offered. “Nothing’s worse than a bored dog; they start destroying things.”

“Bored little boys, do that too,” Nik replied.


	6. Chapter 6

A loud, _loud_ , angry scream rang out of your shared flat and into the afternoon air.

Henry’s phone rang. He answered it.

“Hi. Yeah, sorry about that, we’re fine. She was showing me how to play Rocket League and she lost.”

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT MOVE?!” You yelled incredulously as the game showed the replay. You were driving the ball to the opponent’s goal, the tiebreaker that would have won the game, and another car came out of _nowhere_ and just barely touched you and you went spiraling into oblivion. Also: the wall of the area. And the ball _somehow_ went flying into your goal.

You called shenanigans.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” You growled.

Henry laughed. “Yeah. I’ll tell her to keep it down. Sorry, bye.”

You sighed and leaned your head back on the seat of the couch, as you were sitting in front of it with your laptop on the coffee table.

* * *

“I’m sorry?” You asked, feeling somewhat stupefied.

“Do you want to room with me for the two weeks we’re in Skye?” He was blushing, maybe asking you made him nervous. It was adorable.

“We’ve only been dating for what… a month?”

“If you think it’s too soon, we don’t have to.”

“I’m just… what if we get sick of each other over the two weeks?”

“Well...” he thought for a few moments.

You wanted to say yes-- you _really_ wanted to say yes. You wanted to say ‘Yes!’ and jump into his arms and then he would swing you around while the background music swelled to a crescendo and the two of you kissed and somehow you were both suddenly outside and it was raining in a romantic kind of way.

But your pragmatic self scolded you. What if the two of you moved in together for the two weeks and he expected you to do his laundry for him? What if he hated that you sang in the shower? How were you supposed to sing in the shower with someone you had only been dating for a few weeks anyway? What if he ended up being busy and ditched you every time he got back from set? What if, despite living in the same space for two weeks, the two of you never saw each other? He was the lead, after all; he had to be _constantly_ busy.

You didn’t know what to say.

“I’m thinking… it’s only two weeks, and we’ll both be busy being on set. So, we probably won’t see each other nearly enough to get on each other’s nerves. But then, we’ll be able to wake up and have breakfast together which should be fun. And we’ll be able to chat a bit before we have to go to sleep for the next day.”

“So, like… a controlled environment of seeing if we can get along in close quarters?”

“I guess. Yeah.”

“Like, an experiment to see if we hate each other,” you laughed.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Minimal pressure.”

You nodded.

“It’d just be you and me. I’m going to leave Kal with my brother while we’re in Skye and then pick him up when we start filming closer to London.”

“I thought you two were inseparable?”

“Generally, but his kids want to get a dog and he asked how they knew they were responsible enough for a dog, so they offered to dogsit him to prove it. I couldn’t say no,” he chuckled.

Cute.

“That must have made your brother happy.”

“He was only slightly annoyed with me.”

You smiled.

“So… it’d just be us for two weeks.”

You sat back in your chair for a few moments and stared into your drink. If only you had gotten a loose-leaf tea instead of the matcha latte you normally got. You doubted you’d be able to divine the future with matcha powder. What if you just chugged the whole mug and flipped it over? What would he think?

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to pressure you,” he said, leaning in. A look of concern overtaking his features.

“I don’t think you’re pressuring me; I’m just trying to figure out what would be the best answer.”

He leaned back again; the look of concern stayed.

You were never particularly good at squaring what you wanted from the world with what was happening around you. You wanted him, but you didn’t want to fuck it up. But what if you said no? Then you would barely see each other during the Skye filming. And that would be worse than finding out you didn’t get along, no?

“I also think, once we get back to filming near London… you could write all day and I would film all day, and we could see each other at night or when I catch a break from filming,” he offered.

You searched his features for a moment. You wished you had telepathy so you could just listen in on his thoughts. He was unreasonably pretty, easily the most handsome person you had ever encountered in your life. Ever. The way he looked at you right now, he was all earnestness and barely guarded fear that you might say no. That had to mean he was as nervous as you were.

“Okay.”

His face immediately changed into a smile. “Really?” 

“Yeah. And if you end up hating me, it’s your own fault,” you laughed.

“If it turns out we hate each other, we can draw a line down the middle of the flat,” he laughed.

“Aright,” you laughed. “And then we’ll become a 1960’s sitcom.”

A week later you had packed up everything you needed for the two weeks in Skye and were walking into the flat the two of you were going to share for those two weeks.

Henry opened the door as if he was one of those TV hosts who built people new houses. You half expected to see a treehouse in the middle of the room made entirely of Tamagotchis or something equally as ridiculous.

“Here we are!” He said happily.

“There we be,” you said back.

He laughed. “Do you like it?”

You looked around. “It’s a cute little place. Is this what it’s like to be the lead?”

He laughed again. “I won’t argue that being the star isn’t without its perks.”

You laughed. You put your stuff down and walked into the living room. “Two cardio machines? Are you planning on doing double the running-- is _that_ why you asked me what my favorite type of cardio was?”

He smiled.

“You sly dog you, getting me an elliptical because I said I hated the treadmill,” you said as you got onto it and started walking.

“Do you like it?” He asked as he walked over.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “But I’m wishing that I had changed my answer to ‘sex’ instead.” You laughed at your own joke.

He put his hands on his hips and smiled. He leaned over the front and you slowed down. “We can do that for cardio too.” 

You kissed and as you pulled away you said, “That’s it. I’m sold on this living together for two weeks thing.” 

You broke into a run and he jumped away, laughing.

“Have you ever listened to the show—game? Motivation?” You shrugged hard because you didn’t know what to call it, “ZombiesRun! while doing cardio? I used to use it back in the day and I think they have a newer version now. It’s fun.”

* * *

“You okay?” He tried not to smile.

“Don’t even tell me to keep it down I’m already done with this game,” you said as you hit the ‘back’ button on the controller, leaving the game lobby.

He laughed quietly.

“I didn’t realize other people were quarantined in the block as well.”

“Yeah, a bunch of the crew are. It’s a good thing the company rented them all out; at least there’s no one from outside the production who could catch it.”

You hummed in agreement.

“Should probably cool it on the Rocket League.”

“I promise officer, I won’t do it again.”

“Do you want to play something else?”

“Like what?” You turned to him.

“I don’t know. Just anything that doesn’t make you scream at your laptop.”

You laughed. “I could kick your ass at Battleship for a fifth time.”

He glared at you.

His reaction took you by surprise and you snorted as you laughed.

He shook his head with a smile. “You’re so mean.”

“I’m not. I’ve been so nice this whole time.

He looked up at you, still smiling.

You balled your hands into fists and put them under your chin, as if you were a kid taking a posed department store photo. You smiled.

He chuckled. “Oh! What if you made a World of Warcraft account? Then we could play together. It’s how my brothers and I keep in touch.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I don’t agree with some of the stances the company has taken in the past few years, but it would be something to do.”

His smile dropped.

Uh oh.

“I’ve never heard you say anything like that before.”

“Uhh… well, just because I don’t say it doesn’t mean I’m not thinking it.”

He frowned, but his brow ticked up.

“I mean, it’s like when you hear from a friend of a friend that someone they know is a dick. You don’t hang out with that other person anyway, so why start? I mean, I don’t agree with everything Bethesda does, actually I find myself agreeing less and less with them as time goes on, but I like their games so it’s like… the opposite.”

“I guess…”

“Like, it’s not like I think Blizzard’s games look bad, I just don’t agree with microtransactions in game at all. I don’t have a lot of money and I have even less self-regulation. They’re really just there to steal money from someone like me.”

He nodded; frown gone. “That’s a fair point.”

You thought for a moment and remembered Fallout 76 still exists, “You know what, I take back what I said about Bethesda: I like Fallout 3 and Skyrim and that’s it. New Vegas is the best Fallout and they didn’t even make that one.”

He laughed quietly.

“But you’re here, so you can stop me from buying things in WoW.”

He looked away. “Uhh…”

“Oh my _god_ Henry. Maybe we should ask someone to send over some shock collars instead.” 

“I have money, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” you laughed.

He smiled. “Do you want to play or not?”


	7. Chapter 7

The two of you played Wow for three days straight. You had both forgotten to do cardio, and didn’t even have sex, in the three straight days you had played.

“I think my legs are dying. And also, my eyes.”

Henry turned to you. “Want to take a break?”

You logged out. “Yes please.” You pushed your headset off your head and rubbed your eyes.

Henry logged out and closed his laptop.

“Too many little numbers going across the screen. Too many buttons to remember.”

He laughed.

“Why couldn’t you play a normal RPG?”

He closed your laptop. “What do you want to do?”

You sighed. “Lay down and fix my spine.” You sprawled out across the floor.

He stood up and walked away. The bathroom you guessed.

You raised your hand and searched for your phone on the coffee table, knocking it down onto your face. Turning quickly, it only hit you on the cheek. You searched for the song that had gotten stuck in your head earlier, blaring with all the force of an orchestra with no provocation from you or anything in the flat. Finding it, you put your phone on your chest and relaxed. 

The earworm had been appeased.

You heard the toilet flush and the water running in the bathroom, and a few minutes later Henry walked back in. “What is that song? I feel like I know it.”

“It’s from Dragon Age: Inquisition. The game had _too much_ busy work, but the music was good.”

“You have problems with everything,” he laughed.

You shrugged. “Not everything is as cut and dry as it could be.” You stretched. “Mmmthat’s why better game reviewers use an Out of 100 system instead of good or bad. There’s too many shades of grey.”

“Fifty shades, even?”

You stared at him. “I was actually going to quote a video game character, but sure, reference a horrible book and a worse movie.”

He laughed.

You smiled.

“What character?”

“Garrus from Mass Effect. ‘Grey? I don’t know what to do with grey.’”

Henry smiled. “I’ve heard good things about that game.”

“You get to fly around the galaxy, save the place, schtup aliens--”

“'Schtup?'”

“Fuck.”

“Ahh,” he nodded slowly.

You giggled and sighed. “It’s too bad Andromeda was such a piece of shit.”

You both sat and listened to the music some more.

“Does this song have words? I feel like I remember it having words.”

“Yeah, uh,” you searched for a sung version. Finding it, you pressed play and turned up the volume, as it had no background orchestrals.

You sang with it. A pandemic was not a time to feel awkward.

“ _Shadows fall_

_And hope has fled._

_Steel your heart_

_The dawn will come._

_The night is long_

_And the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_For one day soon_

_The dawn will come._

_The shepard's lost_ \-- What?”

He had been smiling at you the whole time. “I was hoping you’d sing it.”

You turned it down. “Really now?”

He nodded. “I heard you singing in the shower this morning and enjoyed it.”

You had been grooving to Doja Cat’s Say So as you showered that morning, a 1970s inspired slow bop if there ever was one.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You’re pretty good.”

You smiled. “Thank you. I like music and I can’t play an instrument so–” you shrugged.

He chuckled. 

You heard something come through the open window. “Do you hear that?” You paused the song.

“ _Look to the–-_ turn it back on!”

You and Henry looked at each other before he got up and helped you up off the floor. The two of you went to the small balcony you had, a feature of all the flats.

“Turn it back on!” A man, higher up on another balcony, yelled.

“Hold on!” You ran back into the flat, leaving Henry slightly confused as you shoved your phone into his hand. 

You came running back out with the mini speaker for your phone, plugged it in, and put both on the railing so everyone could hear it.

Henry took his phone out of his pocket and started recording as the song started.

_Shadows fall_

_And hope has fled._

_Steel your heart_

_The dawn will come._

_The night is long_

_And the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_For one day soon_

_The dawn will come._

_The shepard's lost_

_And his home is far_

_Keep to the stars_

_The dawn will come._

_The night is long_

_And the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_For one day soon_

_The dawn will come._

The voices of the people on the balconies swelled as the music did. You noticed more than one person had looked up the lyrics on their phone and were reading them as they were singing.

Henry turned around so he could get himself in the frame with all the people singing behind him.

_Bare your blade_

_And raise it high_

_Stand your ground_

_The dawn will come._

_The night is long_

_And the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_For one day soon_

_The dawn will come._

As the song ended, everyone applauded: themselves and the people around them for sounding great, and the communal act of coming together in song itself.

Henry stopped filming and put his phone down. “Do you mind if I make that an Instagram story?”

“To your private one or your public one?”

“The public one.”

“Go ahead.”

He smiled and got to work adding it to his story.

“Am-- am I in it?”

“Yeah,” he smiled.

You nodded.

His smile dropped. “Do you not want me to post it?”

“I mean… I guess people will find out about us eventually, right?”

He smiled and finished posting it.

Knowing so many people would see you standing next to him made you a little anxious.

“Another one!” Someone yelled.

“Wait, wait!” One guy said as he ran back inside and emerged with a guitar. He played the opening chords of Wonderwall.

Everyone booed. The guy laughed at the booing. 

“Freebird!” You yelled.

Henry and a few others laughed.

“Somebody to Love!” You yelled and searched for the song, hoping he could play along with it.

“Can…” you sang with the song.

You and the group went through: Somebody to Love, Bohemian Rhapsody, We Will Rock You (which was very cool with everyone clapping and stomping their feet), Radio Gaga, and Best Friend (where one guy serenaded his husband which was extremely cute.

As Don’t Stop Me Now was ending Henry suggested the two of you go back inside.

“One more?”

He sighed. “Sure. One more.”

“Sing with me.”

“I don’t know if--”

“One more, guys!”

Everyone cheered. And the opening bass riffs of Under Pressure started.

“Sing with me,” you smiled. “I’ll be Freddie.”

He laughed. “Fine.”

Somewhere in the middle of the song he had taken your hands and had you swaying with him to the music. Not too much, as he was trying to read the lyrics off your phone from where it sat on the balcony.

You stood back to back for a second as you snapped your fingers during ‘Turn away from it all like a blind man.’

You belted Freddie’s ‘Why’s?’ into the same high pitch he did, making Henry smile at you like he was genuinely impressed.

Both of you sang ‘This is our last dance’ together as he, confident of the words because it was the end of the song, spun you around.

Everyone snapped along with the song as the guitarist, who had grabbed a bass you don’t know when, played the ending riff of the song.

You all applauded the end of the song.

“Thank you, thank you!” You said. “We’ll be here for-- as long as you will be. Try the veal!” You picked up your phone and speaker.

Henry laughed while he shook his head and opened the door for you.

“You know,” you said as he closed the door, “I saw videos of people in Italy singing together off their balconies, but I never thought that would ever happen in real life.”

“Are the Italians not in real life?”

You laughed. “You know what I mean. I never thought I would be singing with a group of people off our balconies.”

He smiled.

“And how did that guy have a guitar and bass all ready to go?”

“I think that was one of the sound engineers.”

“I knew it.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Did you like talking to my brother and his wife a few days ago?” Henry asked.

“Sure, they seemed nice. Why, does Kal want to see you again?” You joked.

Henry laughed. “I’m sure he does. But, no, um…” he sat your post-cardio breakfast on the table. “My mom wants to meet you.”

“Oh.”

“Since she was going to call me today, I thought maybe we could video chat and she could meet you virtually.”

“Oh.” Your fork in your food, you drifted off into your thoughts before you could bring it to your mouth.

This was every girlfriend’s most terrifying moment: meeting the person who birthed her boyfriend.

“Are you okay?”

“I—uh… no?” You squeaked.

“I mean… if we keep dating, you’ll have to meet her eventually.”

“Yeah…”

“And meeting virtually would be less pressure than meeting her in real life, I think.”

You whispered. “So… you’re trying to help?”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

You looked around the room before standing up and sitting back down. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”

He reached out to you. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head and gripped the table, “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

He put his hands on yours. “She’s going to love you.”

You stared at his hands a moment before looking up at him. “How do you know that?”

He looked at you, confused.

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Because I’m a… I’m a weirdo.”

He laughed.

“I’m a loud American who screams bloody murder at video games, and uses too much internet slang to be comprehensible to most people outside of the internet. I’m bad at dressing up, and I don’t use forks and knives the English way.”

He laughed again and moved to answer, but you interrupted.

“I write strange stories with alien gods and half-alien/half-human hybrids, and you didn’t even see my weirdest shit: I write speculative fiction and body horror and monsterfucking. What if they end up reading what I’ve written?”

He opened his mouth again.

“I’m a weirdo writer who keeps weirdo hours and has insane ideas and your whole family is super normal and in the military.”

“No, they’re not; Charlie is in marketing.”

“So two out of the six men in your immediate family aren’t in the military.”

“They used to give me shit for being an actor, but they got over it.”

You sighed, still panicky.

“Listen, my mum wasn’t in the military. And I know her, and I know she’ll love you.”

You stood and turned from him, folding your arms.

“Do… do you not want to meet her?”

You turned back around. “What?”

“You seemed sort of standoffish when you met my brother and his wife. Is it that… you don’t want to meet my family?”

Now it was your turn to look confused.

“You didn’t want to talk to my brother, and you seemed really excited when you saw the flat the first time… If you only want to date me for my fame or something like that, then we’d better break up now, because—”

With an expression that was somewhere between hurt and anger, you pointed at him. “Alright, let me get this through your head, and I am only saying this once, okay?”

He stared at you.

“ _You_ asked me out and _I_ said yes. And I said yes because I wanted to date you because of you. All the other shit? I don’t care about the fame. Having to go to fashion shows and TV red carpets, to me, would be like have to go to nine-thousand departmental meetings but I have to wear a fucking girdle and a gown as it was happening. You having all this money you have,” you gestured at the flat, “that’s nice, but it’s just an added perk to me. I do not care about that shit. If you were some Joe Schmo with a whatever-the-fuck job and you were still as sweet and kind and pretty as you are now, I would have said yes to you asking me out. I’m working class, Henry, I have my pride and want to do things for myself and not date someone because it would be easier to just marry rich and get the social clout without having to work for it. Please tell me you understand that.”

He was quiet for a moment as he looked at you.

“I want you because you’re you, you big doof, no other reason. Okay? I don’t care that you’re ‘Henry Cavill, noted actor and famous person.’ I care that you’re ‘Henry Cavill, sweet dude who loves video games and the gym and like…” you trailed off.

“What?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been stuck in this flat for almost three weeks and like…” you sighed and covered your eyes with your hand, you couldn’t take him looking at you while you said it. “If we’re together any longer, you’re going to be my best friend.”

You heard the chair shift under him as he stood up. He took your hand away from your eyes and put his hands around your waist. “Best friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Not in a friend zoning way?” He laughed quietly.

You sighed, smiling. “No. In an ‘I’ve always wanted the person I date to also be my best friend,’ kind of way.”

He smiled and nodded as he held you.

“I’m nervous to meet your mom because like… what if she hates me? And then you won’t like me anymore if she doesn’t like me. My own parents think I’m weird and they’re the ones who raised me.”

“Hey, she doesn’t control everything I do. She’s hated girls I’ve dated before and I kept dating them.”

“I’m not sure if that’s exactly reassuring…” you laughed.

“Why not?”

“I mean, she was probably right about them since you’re not _with_ them anymore.”

He laughed. “True. But I mean to say: I value her opinion, but she doesn’t control my life.”

You nodded as he held you.

“She’s going to love you.”

You frowned.

“And even if she hates you, she’s not going to say anything, so—”

“That totally helps the paranoia, you know that? Color me _soothed_.”

He laughed and kissed you.

You sighed as he pulled away.

“I think she’s really going to like you. If you make me happy, she’ll be happy.”

“I make you happy?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “You do.”

“Even though I’m a weirdo monsterfucker writer.”

“Uh… I would have to see some evidence of this ‘monsterfucking’ as you call it. I mean, you fuck me and I’m no monster.”

You smiled. “You’re really not.”

He smiled at you.

You laid you head on his chest.

“So what you’re really saying is you wrote some really raunchy porn when you were younger and you want me to read it?”

“Younger?” You asked as you picked your head back up. “More like last month!”

He laughed. “Can I read it?”

You laughed. “Ohhh no no. Oh no no no sweet baby angel, you are not allowed to read such things.”

“Is it on your laptop?” He smiled devilishly.

“Don’t you dare.”

He quickly turned, put your chair in your way, and went running into the bedroom to find your laptop.

“Oh my—” you moved the chair and ran after him “—oh my _god_ Henry!”

* * *

A few days into the Skye filming, the two of you were having a great time. You got to be on set and experience what it was like to do script consulting while the controlled chaos of filming raged around you; people moving equipment, discussing lights, extras milling around at the edges of the set in between takes. And then there was Henry, who would always, somehow, catch your eye while he was patiently waiting for the makeup artists to finish touching him up.

He’d look your way and smile, trying not to be too obvious, but you were sure someone had to have caught on. The two of you were living in the same flat for godssakes; it had to be obvious to everyone on set and their aunties who were still at home.

That didn’t stop anyone from taking you seriously, though. You were one of the script writers and your name would be pretty high up in the credits once all this was done. The director still turned to you he had a question about mood or the characters’ motivations.

It was a tossup as to whether that was your favorite part or…

You had already gotten used to waking up in Henry’s arms. Your size difference dictated that you had to be the little spoon, and you didn’t mind one bit. You enjoyed the hell out of waking up being hugged by your hulking bed partner as if you were some tiny teddy bear.

Today, you were allowed to fall back to sleep for a while, as bad weather meant the shooting scheduled for that day had to be postponed. The scene was meant to be raucously sunny, and the director preferred natural light over doctoring it later with CGI, so everyone got a reprieve for the day.

A little while later, after being bored from being awake with nothing to do, you snuck away to the living room to write for a bit without waking him up. You were by yourself for an hour when he finally walked in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Morning,” he yawned. “How’s writing?”

“Not bad. About…” you checked the word count, “two-thousand-something words so far?”

“How long have you been awake?” He asked as he walked to the kitchen to start breakfast.

“Like a half hour or so.”

His brows ticked up. He seemed genuinely impressed. “Can I read it when you’re done?”

“Sure,” you smiled.

"I like reading what you write."

"I like that you like reading what I write."

He smiled. "And I like that you like that I like reading what you write."

“Oh no,” you laughed as he set a cup of tea for you at the counter.

You turned off your laptop and joined him in the kitchen, blowing on your tea to cool it.

“So, what do you want to do with our day off?” He asked with a smile as he turned on the stove and looked in the fridge for something to go with the eggs he made every morning.

“We could—”

Henry’s phone rang.

“Can you get that?” He asked.

It was right next to you, so you picked it up. “Hello? Yeah, he’s right here.”

You handed him the phone and he looked at the name before putting it to his ear and continued getting the eggs. “Hello? Yeah. Mhm. Mhm.”

You watched him as his movement slowed. He closed the fridge and turned off the stove.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered.

"Oh… wow. Yeah. Okay." Henry hung up the phone and looked at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't normally write real person fic, but after watching The Witcher my brain remembered that I used to have a huge crush on Henry Cavill. In trying to stay updated with the production of the second season I saw that post we all saw about Kristofer Hivju getting coronavirus and was worried for Henry. 
> 
> But also my very overworked, very creatively stagnated brain went into overdrive about What Could Happen? and now this fic exists as a result.
> 
> I've also uploaded it all at once since, once this weekend is over, I'll be going back to having exactly no free time.
> 
> SO
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it, I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> (And if anyone figures out the parallel between this and the show, you get a dozen gold stars, lol)

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed it! :D


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